


What Happens in Barcelona Stays in Barcelona

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Root and shaw have to fly to Barcelona, and there they meet Thomas who asks Shaw to stay with him, and root is jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Barcelona Stays in Barcelona

Root looks to the left, and is met with the crisp view of blue sky and clouds just below. The sun strikes them, causing them to glow blindingly white, and she looks away. Her eyes quickly adjust to the darker airplane cabin, and they focus on the sleeping form at her right. Long black hair tied back in a tight pony tail; not a single strand daring to escape. Her face is relaxed, peaceful- not at all like it is when she’s awake. When she’s awake, she’s fierce- predatorial- something Root can’t help but admire. Her head droops over as she falls into a deeper sleep, and leans on Root’s shoulder. Instantly, there is a jolt in Root’s heart, and a tingle slithers down her spine. Every nerve electrifies and intensifies in the spot where Sameen Shaw’s temple touches.

* * *

 

Looking straight forward, Root thinks to the task at hand. How it even came to happen. Harold turning in his chair, coming to tell her that she and Shaw were needed an ocean away.

_"You and Miss. Shaw have business in Barcelona." He states, walking over to a travel pack in the far corner of their subway car._

_"I’m guessing it isn’t some kind of honeymoon for two," Root jokes, averting her eyes as she trails her fingers down the cart wall. Harold lets out a small chuckle._

_"I’m afraid not, however, if you finish this mission in time feel free to tour around."_

_"Thanks, Harry," Root replies, taking the pack from his extended hand. Within it is a laptop, two cell phones, and an extra set of ear wigs._

_"Cannot be too careful, Miss. Groves," Harold tells her, acknowledging her look into the contents. "You do remember Thomas, don’t you?"_

_"Shaw’s boyfriend?" Root remarks casually, although the last word is spit a little too harshly, held with extended bitterness._

_"If you are referring to her criminal colleague, then yes," Harold replies, looking to something on his computer screen. "I would hardly call him a boyfriend."_

_A little more assured, Root asks, “Why is She taking us all the way to Spain for this one?”_

_"Well, I’m assuming he is important to some larger plan, otherwise, why would She keep an eye on him?"_

_Root nods in an understanding way, just as Shaw walks in. Instantly, Root’s serious mouth turns up in a warm smile._

_"Pack your bags, Sweetie, we’re going somewhere warm."_

The memory brings a quaint smile to her tired face. She hadn’t slept the entire plane ride- how could she?- but suddenly a larger wave of exhaustion overpowers her. With a yawn, she carefully places the side of her head atop of Shaw’s, and closes her eyes. Root freezes as she hears Shaw grunt in her sleep, but relaxes when she doesn’t awaken. Instead, she repositions her shoulder, and leans further into Root. Root can’t help but smile as she slowly dozes off.

_________\ If Your Number’s Up /_________

Root stirs first. The syrupy sweet voice of a flight attendant rings across the speakers, her false cheer causing a sick twist in Root’s stomach. She pulls her groggy head upward, using her free hand to rearrange her hair. From her side, she hears the faint snoring of a still sleeping Shaw. Bringing her mouth close, she coos quietly, “Flight’s over, Sweetie. Time to wake up.”

Shaw moves, her head shifting slowly on Root’s shoulder, as she rolls her stiff neck. She starts to pull her head up, realizes she is still tired, and drops her forehead back down onto Root’s shoulder. Then, she freezes.

"Root…" Her voice is level, but laced with fatigue.

"Yes?"

"What am I leaning on..?"

Root’s mouth pulls up in a satisfied smile she tries in vain to hold back. Shortly, she answers, “Me.”

Instantly, Shaw pulls herself upright, sleepy eyes filling with alertness. Her lips come together in an angry bunch, and her cheeks burn. Without a word, she gets up and grabs their carry on bag. She stalks out from the plane, leaving Root in the seat to give herself a smug smirk.

She pushes up out of her seat, then follows another passenger out to the plane’s exit. As she crosses through to the terminal, she sees Shaw leaning against the wall impatiently.

"Thanks for waiting up," Root says as she approaches. Without stopping, she continues to walk and Shaw comes to match her stride.

"Can you tell me why we’re here?" She asks tastelessly as they come to the luggage station.

"Relax, Sam," Root replies, taking a long look into her eyes. "We’ll get where we need to go."

Looking away, Shaw spots her bag and grabs it angrily from the conveyor belt. Root picks up her own, more delicately, and off they go. Down the front steps, across the busy intersection, and off down a deserted side street. Looking at one another, then back to the road, they pull themselves next to a dumpster. Quickly, they pull out guns, knives, and a small wad of medical bandages. Then, they dump the bags, stowing away their mini artillery. Shaw slips a knife into her boot as Root conceals her second gun. Finally, the two walk back to the throng.

"When you said warm, you weren’t kidding." Shaw says, making conversation. Looking over, Root sees her pull down her black v-neck tee to fully conceal her weapon.

"It is Barcelona. What’d you expect?"

"Barcelona…. This is where Thomas fled off to," Shaw muses to herself. When Root doesn’t fire back a witty response, Shaw turns to look at her, a knowing smile crossing dangerously over her face. "That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? For him?"

The eagerness in Shaw’s voice causes Root’s jaw to harden. After a moment, she nods. “Thomas is our number. Our person of interest, if you will.”

"Oh, he can be  _my_ person of interest,” Shaw says sexily, as they continue down the street. “All  _he_  wants.”

"Don’t carry yourself away, Sameen," Root cuts in on her thoughts. "We’re here on business."

Taking one more turn, they head down 18 on Carrer dels Escudellers, coming into a cooler, shadier walkway. Their heels click on the square tiled ground, the stones slippery-smooth with age. On either side of them, garage doors are pulled down on shoppes, revealing artistic graffiti. They come past one of a man, pale white with a thin, black mustache. Beside him is a colorfully painted reptile. The background holds a labyrinth of squares, and the sign above reads Gotic.

"We turn here," Root instructs, carrying them into a large, open circle. Mopeds are parked all around, shoppes bustle with life, and people buzz around. Sticking to the sidelines, the two walk to the right, kissing the shop walls. Root puts a hand on Shaw’s back, steering her in all the right directions without a need for words, until they finally come to a small alleyway consumed with plant life. Shaw looks around, eyes taking in the scenery. Ivy covers ancient looking apartment suites, and small trees are in full bloom. The graffiti on the shoppe doors seems to fade to the background, becoming it’s own beautiful fauna. Looking to her other side, she sees Root- already watching her.

"Whatcha doin?" She asks Sameen, a smile dancing on her features.

"Taking in the nice view. You?"

"Same thing," she replies easily, never taking her eyes from Shaw’s. Shaw laughs disbelievingly, then shakes her head as she looks away.

The women come to a stop at the corner of 4 on Carrer de la Comtessa de Sobradiel, and Root leans against the cool stone surface of a building. After a moment, Shaw comes to join her.

A few silent minutes later, a familiar face appears through the small waves of people, and Root watches tastelessly as Shaw’s face brightens slightly.

"Thomas!" She calls out, bringing a hand to her mouth, letting the sound of her voice carry to him. He turns, searches a moment, then smiles at the sight of her.

"Ahh, Sameen! ¿Cómo estás, hermosa?"

(How are you, beautiful?)

She gives a small and content smile as he reaches them, arms open wide in greeting.

"I’m doing good," she replies, looking him up and down. "You seem to be making out good yourself." She acknowledges, receiving a dazzling smile from Thomas.

"Very."

"Hi," Root cuts in as Shaw opens her mouth to speak, extending a hand to Thomas, blocking his view of Shaw. "I’m Root."

"Ahh," Thomas says, nodding away his slight confusion. He looks around her, shooting questioning eyes Shaw’s way. Hers respond with something less than amusement. "Well, it is nice to meet you. I am-"

"Thomas. I know." She says, her air dominant and edgy.

"And, uh, who are you?" He asks, slightly taken aback with her knowing tone.

"I’m Sameen’s -"

"Travel buddy," Shaw finishes, shooting dangerous eyes Root’s way. When they return to Thomas, they become lighter. "Assurance I come home," she tells him, hintingly. Root looks away, rolling her eyes at Thomas’s puppy-dog reaction.

"Got it, Harold," Root says into her earpiece. Then, without looking at either of them, she says, "We have to go. Now." She brushes past them, leading the way. Thomas looks to Shaw, mouthing ‘What is her problem?’ Shaw merely shrugs her shoulders in response.

Coming down one last side street, Root stops abruptly, and Shaw bumps into her. With lightning speed, Root brings her hand behind her back, grabs Shaw’s wrist, and pulls her into the side of a building as a bullet rockets by. For a moment, the two are locked there. Shaw pressed against the wall; Root pressed against Shaw. Face to face as Shaw looks up and Root looks down, meeting their eyes. Finally, Shaw rolls away, grabbing out her gun, and firing back at the gunmen. It is evident they are out manned and over powered. Thomas draws his own hand gun, but it is a useless gesture.

"Our best bet is to run them off," Root tells them. She shoves both of them across the small roadway, both guns firing in each hand to assure their safety, then she runs off with them.

They zigzag through the maze of a city, until they come across a store called “Li Lionesa.” There, a long row of crisp, two seater motorcycles line the street.

"Like old times," Shaw comments, looking over at Root with an excited smile, the thrill of the mission setting off a high in her veins.

"Indeed," Root replies, her eyes coming to a motorcycle just like the one she used to ride. Side by side, the two women work with nimble fingers to hot wire the vehicles. They rev to life, and Shaw and Root look at each other with accomplished smiles.

"Thomas, take this one," Shaw says, patting the seat to her hot wired ride. "Tail Root."

Root steps over and into position on her motorcycle as Thomas comes to Shaw’s. After he is seated, he shoots Shaw a dazzling grin.

"Hop on?" He asks with an I-already-know-the-answer voice. Smiling, Shaw turns and pulls herself over the second seat of Root’s cycle.

At Thomas’s surprised look, Shaw says, “Maybe next time.” Root can’t help but grin as she pulls away.

__________\ We’ll Find You /__________

Root screeches to a halt at a nearby port. The water is a deep blue, and the sun ripples across it in diamond patterns. Across the way is another port just the same as theirs, a tall building rising like a large sail into the blue sky. From behind them, there is the sound of an approaching truck.

"Time to go," Root says to Shaw, hopping off the motorcycle. Drawing their weapons, Thomas joins them with his own weapon as they stealthily approach the nearest boat. Root goes first, up the small ramp and onto the deck. Their, a bunch of men like the ones on Fourth stand, drawing their weapons. Between the three of them, they easily pick off the six disorganized men. Then, stalking forward, Shaw grabs one of their larger guns, loading and aiming.

"Loco y caliente," Thomas observes, walking with them to the edge of the boat’s railing. His hand brushes across Shaw’s back. "Creo que estoy enamorado."

(Crazy and hot… I think I’m in love.)

Shaw laughs, and Root grits her teeth. The truck stops and the large group of men start to rush forward. Bullets are exchanged like words between old friends, and shots ring in the air for long minutes. Finally, smoke settling, the results are in. Thomas took one to the leg- a flesh wound. Root was grazed by another, a small cut on her eyebrow showing for it. The men are all down, save for one. As he runs, Shaw looks through the scope, then fires one into his back. He falls as it escapes through his heart.

Satisfied, she puts the gun down, then turns. Her face goes from enjoyment, to serious work, as she looks at the condition of Thomas. He holds his leg as a light ooze of blood escapes from between his fingers. Then, her face changes once more- from serious work to doctor- as she sees the blood leaking down beside Root’s eye. She quickly grabs the gauze from Root’s pocket, pressing it to her left brow. She winces, but stays stationary as Shaw holds the bandage steady.

"Can I get one of those?" Thomas pants, and Shaw walks over to hand him a couple, then returns to inspect Root’s condition.

"Why didn’t you  _say_  anything?” She fumes, pulling the gauze back to look at the wound, pushing Root’s shoulder down and forcing her to stoop lower. “I could have  _covered_  you.” Now at eye level, Shaw uses a second bandage, this one equipped with adhesive strips, and applies it gently across Root’s cut. The two look at each other a moment, then Shaw turns abruptly to check on Thomas.

"I’m fine," he says as she approaches. He stands up straight, two gauze wraps tied tightly around his upper calf. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he walks with the two women back down to the dock. Root- hearing word from Harold- runs over to the motorcycle, rummaging through her bag until she finds one of the cell phones. Pulling it out, she taps through the screen as he instructs. Then, a screen pops up brandishing a Samaritin symbol.

"Hold it towards the boat, Miss. Groves." She does as she’s told, and instantly the icon turns green.

"Okay. Now what?"

"Share the screen with me," Harold instructs, and after tapping a few more times, Root nods.

"You’re in." She watches as the screen moves on it’s own, letters scanning across the screen. Then faces, names of people in danger. People Samaritin was blocking from the Machine in order to kill without interruption. A smile crosses her face, seeing all the new possibilities- people to save.

"Sameen, you’ve got to see thi-" Root says turning, but she stops short, smile faltering on her perfect face as her eyes search. Finally, they lock in on a motorcycle speeding away, a ponytail flaring out from the driver position. She puts the phone down at her side, her fight draining until she’s dry of everything except exhaustion. Exhaustion and hurt.

"Miss. Groves? Is everything alright?" Harold’s concerned voice crackles through the ear wig. "I can’t get a signal from Miss. Shaw, is she-"

"She’s gone, Harold." Root interrupts with dull emotion. The hurt in her eyes is evident, and she looks down, letting out a sigh. Putting the phone back into the bag, she zips it up, then sits on the vehicle.

"Gone?" He asks.

"She just- she left," Root breathes out, her lip twitching with the dejection. "With Thomas."

"I…" Harold trails off in deep thought. He clears his throat, then starts again. "I’m sorry, Samantha."

______\ What Happens in Barcelona /______

It was a long ride out to the bottom coast of a small peninsula in Barcelona, but a long ride was exactly what Root needed. After the long turns and endless miles of blue sea give her time to think, she stops at a small café on the coast’s edge. Parking the motorcycle a few blocks off, she walks past the small stores and light traffic of people, coming to a mostly empty stretch of port looking out on salty water and a clock tower. The world around grows darker; the sun dipping into the water for a late bath. Fire meets water across the ocean and a blast of color illuminates the sky and water. Root takes a seat at one of the Tapa Tapa’s outdoor tables and orders a coffee. She looks at a couple sitting on one of the wooden benches lining the water’s edge. Forcing her eyes away from them, she scans the vast ocean once more.

"You’re a hard person to find," a voice says from behind her, catching Root off guard. She turns, watching as a slender body settles down in the chair adjacent from her. "But, I guess we all are." A smile spreads across Root’s face as she looks into the eyes of someone she thought she lost over ninety miles ago.

"You came back," Root says quietly, an awe in her voice.

"That was the plan, yeah," Shaw replies confidently, taking the coffee cup from Root’s side of the table. "Thomas was our number. I didn’t come all this way to let him bleed out." After taking a swig, she finishes her thought. "So, I dropped him off at the hospital."

Shaking her head in moderate surprise, Root flashes her white teeth in an even wider smile. She looks away, out to the clock tower.

"So… You’re choosing me?" She asks, not looking at the Shaw.

"I’m choosing  _the dog_ ,” she responds seriously, then laughs, taking another sip of the coffee. “Yeah, Root. You can say that.”

With that, Root returns her full gaze to Shaw, taken slightly aback at her intense gaze. Sameen looks down at the cup. “This coffee absolutely sucks.” She says, pushing it away. Root laughs. “Why don’t we get something worth while?” She asks Root, who nods.

"It’s a date."

"Hey," Shaw fires back, standing with Root, pointing an accusatory finger her way. "Don’t push it."

"Push what?" Root replies innocently, coming around the table to Sameen’s side. Together, the two walk off to Shaw’s bike, parked much closer, and head out into the Barcelona night.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone Spanish speaking, I am terribly sorry for the undoubtedly butchered translations. I spent a good portion of the night walking down streets and around ports in Google Earth for this, haha. The graffiti mustache guy exists!!!


End file.
